e can
give?"

"Yes."

"Well then--that states your case. Now let me state mine. I, too, have
an insuperable objection to marriage. My--er--disinclination is
probably more soundly based than yours, since it is built upon a wider
view of life. But I, too, want certain things which marriage might
bring. I want a home. Not too homey a home, in the strictly domestic
sense (Aunt Caroline is strictly domestic) but a--a congenial home. I
want the advice and help of a clever woman together with the sense of
permanence and security which, in our imperfect state of civilization,
is made possible only by marriage. And I, too, have my secret fear. I
am afraid that some day I may be driven--in short, I am afraid of Aunt
Caroline."

Desire's inquiring eyebrows lifted.

"A man--afraid of his aunt?"

"Yes," gloomily, "it is men who are afraid of aunts. It is not at all
funny," he added as her eyes relaxed, "if you knew Aunt Caroline you
wouldn't think so. She is determined to have me married and she has a
long life of successful effort behind her. One failure is nothing to an
aunt. She is always quite certain that the next venture will turn out
well. And it usually does. In brief, I am thirty-five and I go in
terror of the unknown. If I do not marry soon to please myself, I shall
end by marrying to please someone else. Do you follow me?"

"Make it plainer," ordered Desire soberly. "Make it absolutely plain."

"I will. My proposition is, in its truest and strictest sense, a
marriage of convenience. Marriage, it appears, can give us both what we
want, a formal ceremony will legalize your position as my secretary and
free you entirely from the interference of your father. It will permit
you to accept freely my protection and everything else which I have.
Your way will be open to the things you spoke of the other night,
freedom, leisure, money, travel, books. The only thing we are shutting
out is the thing you say you have no use for--love. But perhaps you did
not mean--"

"I did."

"Then, logically, my proposal is sound."

"Am I to take all these things, and give nothing?"

"Not at all. You give me the things I want most, freedom, security, the
grace of companionship, and collaboration in my work, so long as your
interest in it continues. I will be a safely married man and you--you
will be a window-gazer no longer. There is only one point"--the
speaker's gaze turned from her and wandered out to sea--"I can be sure
of what I